“Is this…Matteo Bellini’sLament for the Evening Star? It’s been lost for over a hundred years! Most scholars believed itwas destroyed when Austro-Hungarian forces raided the Bellini estate during their occupation late in World War I.”
“Yes.” Lucia swallowed her sigh of relief. So far, so good.
Blackwell’s gaze locked onto the painting of a lone woman looking toward the horizon at twilight, bathed in fading light.
Lucia had fallen in love with this painting and Bellini’s work when she was a teenager, and for a while, she’d lived and breathed Bellini.
The image still moved her: the brushwork soft but precise, the light breaking around the figure’s silhouette in golden smudges, the sorrow woven into the pose so vivid, it felt personal.
While it wasn’t easy to create a painting that only existed in pictures, Lucia considered this her best work, and she’d slavedendlesshours on it. It had to fool Blackwell, or their hill got even steeper.
After minutes ticked by without a verdict, Lucia shifted. “What do you think?”
“This could be real. Again, we’d need a closer analysis than what I can offer here, but so far, I can’t detect anything hinting at it being a forgery.”
Lucia’s pulse kicked up. She barely stopped herself from preening, but warmth curled deep inside her. “My client will be pleased to hear that.” Francesca would love this. They had expected much less cooperation.
“Any chance he wants to donate it to the Meridian?”
“Doubtful.”
“A loan perhaps?”
Lucia’s lips twitched. “I could ask and let you know.”
“I’d love that.” Blackwell smiled.
For a second, Lucia almost forgot to breathe. How she wished they’d met under different circumstances.
“Would you like me to keep the paintings for a deeper analysis?”
“Oh, yes. You never know. Maybe the Alessi is from another era and his style had changed a little. Or he’d experimented.” Lucia returned the canvases into the portfolio and handed it over.
“Thank you. Anything is possible, but I wouldn’t recommend getting your client’s hopes up.”
“I’d never.”
Blackwell rummaged in her briefcase and pulled out a business card, flipping it between her fingers, gazing at Lucia for a moment.
“This is… I don’t usually do this.” She looked around, picking up a pen from the lectern and scribbling something on the back—her script ornate, beautiful.
She handed it to Lucia. “Give me a call.” Blackwell paused. “That’s my cell on the back.”
“Oh, OK. Thank you.” Lucia grasped the card.
“It was nice meeting you, Ms.Rossi.” Blackwell smiled again, packing up her remaining belongings before giving Lucia a small wave and heading out of the room.
She was left standing there, feeling almost lightheaded, Blackwell’s card still stuck between her fingers. This had both worked better than expected and not gone according to plan at all. She’d made an impression on Blackwell, though probably not for the right reasons.
Lucia straightened. She couldn’t afford to get sidetracked.
This wasn’t flirtation. It was a mission, and it had only just begun.
Chapter 2
Traps
Penelope yawned, taking off her reading glasses and rubbing her eyes. She glanced at her computer screen: 7:10p.m. The museum surely stood deserted, only the workaholics left, or those with no desire to return home. She wasn’t sure which category she fell into. Perhaps a bit of both.
